Welcom Back to the War- But On the Other Side
by DarkLadySethra
Summary: Captain John Watson, still in Afghanistan, continues his friendship with Sebastian Moran who moved back to London after leaving the army. John Watson now returned from Afghanistan does not have his fated meeting with Mike Stamford, doesn't meet Sherlock Holmes as a friend. Instead he finds life and danger on the other side of the line, as a criminal. The killings are so well...
1. Prologue

**"Welcome Back [to the War]"- But On the Other Side**

Summary:

Captain John Watson, still in Afghanistan, continues his friendship with Sebastian Moran who moved back to London after leaving the army.

John Watson now returned from Afghanistan does not have his fated meeting with Mike Stamford, doesn't meet Sherlock Holmes as a friend. Instead he finds life and danger on the other side of the line, as a criminal. The killings are so well executed that it draws the attention of Sherlock Holmes, who starts investigating the criminal underground.

* * *

_Notes:_

_The character of Sebastian Moran is more based off the original story than it is the show. However all of the characters have been adapted by me to fit the situation they find themselves in so they will be different, some more so than others. This is the first long multi-chapter story I am very serious about, however do not expect steady updates. I am currently dealing with classes, volunteering with ES, personal issues, friends... you get the picture._

_The story will start off slow with short chapters. I am not comfortable writing extremely long chapters, but that will hopefully go away as the story progresses._

_If you have any ideas for the story, do not be afraid to leave them in the comments. I will gladly listen to what you guys have to say._

* * *

"Hey Seb."

"John! How're the Taliban"

"Still hate us. You got lucky, getting out when you did. I still got two months left of this fucking tour."

"They acting up?"

"Yep, what else did you expect! By the way, how's the job coming along?"

"I quit it. Too fucking quiet. Someone gave me a better offer, so I took it."

"Oh, so what are you doing now?"

"Bodyguard. Not as boring. Quite fun actually. Easy to get along with the boss."

"I'm guessing that's good. Is he someone I know?"

"Nah," a phone faintly sounds. "Gotta go. Boss' got a meeting. Bye John, hear from you in two weeks. Tell me when you get back and I'll look you up."

"Bye Seb. I hope to be in London when I'm done."

John hangs up. He quietly collapses against the concrete wall. He'd been up for 19 hours patching up the casualties from an attacked convoy. Some of them had died, but thankfully some had pulled through and survived. He lets out a slow exhale as he pushes off the wall he had collapsed upon. Hopefully he can catch some sleep before the next bloody group arrives.


	2. Chapter 1: Injured

_Notes:_

_Sorry if these chapters are short. This is the pacing that makes sense to me, but they should get longer once the story picks up. It might seem like there are big time jumps in between chapters, but that is also the pacing and they should make sense anyway._

* * *

As John wakes, he is aware of bright lights and shouts of people garbed in white through the haze of shock. The stabbing agony in his shoulder then filters through his consciousness. He lets out a quiet groan. There is a small lull in the noise, and an order is barked out. He feels a small pinch in his arm from, what he recognizes as a needle, and warmth spreads through his veins. Everything fades and he falls blissfully asleep.

When he slowly comes to again , he is again surrounded by bright white. John blinks until a white ceiling comes into focus. As he groans and attempts to roll over, he feels the pain creep back from behind the wall of warmth. The sound of hurried footsteps heralds the arrival of a nurse. "Captain Watson. You shouldn't move." She helps him slowly lay back down. "Do you need anything?"

His bleary mind takes a while to process what she is saying. He opens his parched mouth and croaks "Water."

She nods her head, brown hair bobbing in its bun, and walks away.

The next time John wakes up , he vaguely remembers the nurse helping him sit up and drink a small glass of water. This time the lights are dim and no one seems to be up. As he tries to stretch, he notices his left shoulder does not move. The wrapped bandages keep it immobile, but not painless. He grits his teeth, and lifts himself up a bit to take stock of himself and his surroundings.

He is the sole occupant in the room. The room, and everything in it, is white: the two beds, tables, chair, walls, floor, and door. Unnaturally white. His nerves are frayed. It feels so unreal after the dirt, sand, and blood of Afghanistan. There is no stifling breeze, no shouts, no explosions. The air is still and quiet. The window is covered, so he is unsure where he is. He suspects he is back in Britain as the hospital room is too clean and he is the only occupant which would be unusual in a war zone. His mind groggily wonders what will happen to him, but the drugs kick back in, and his eyes drift shut.

* * *

The man sits, waiting at his desk. It has been four weeks, and no call. Not a single attempt to be contacted. _Is he dead? No. It would be listed. Is he MIA?_ The man pushes down his worry. _He's probably been too busy with all the casualties. He will call. John's too stubborn to let the Taliban kill him._

He sits there for a little while, brooding over possibilities, when a door opens and a figure with a mischievous grin and a maniacal glint in his eyes enters. The man quickly stands up. "Yes Boss?"

"Dear Sebby. I've told you to call me Jim."


End file.
